Self Immolation
by dandeliondreams
Summary: Zuko tries to hold her together, but the burning shards of Azula's twisted, broken mind slip through his fingers one by one. And despite all appearances, she's both more and less than he thinks.


.

.

"_This is stupid."_

"_I know."_

"_She tried to kill me! She tried to kill you!"_

"_She's sick."_

"_No. She was probably born that way."_

"_I need – I beg you to try."_

_._

_._

She's doing very well today, the servants murmur nervously. Please try not to upset her. He nods, takes the golden flame from his hair, and stows it in his clothes before walking in.

She's in an armchair a bit too close to the fireplace – he can see the scuff marks where she's dragged it across the room from its former place looking out over the ocean. Instead of turning to greet him, she stares into the dancing flames, but he knows she's aware of him. He stops five paces away from her and waits. Finally her eyes flick towards him.

He doesn't know why they've let her near fire. He doesn't know why he's come, either, but probably for the same reasons.

She frowns at him half-mockingly and says, "I may be your sister, but I'm still the Fire Lord."

For a few seconds, he hesitates, pride rising up, but he pushes it down and kneels, head to the floor, the way he used to bow to his father and grandfather. Not anymore, of course; Fire Lord Azula is the only one who gets this treatment from him.

It's over now. All he wants to do is pick up the pieces of his family.

"Forgive me," he says to the floor. _"Forgive me."_

Her smile is strangely radiant. The fire curls with her pleasure.

"Of course, Zuzu. Walk with me, brother?"

He hasn't seen her so pleased since she was ten, feeding turtle-ducks in her usual style. She pats him on the head unexpectedly, as though he's a dog or Ty Lee, and waits for his answer.

"I'd love to," he says, and wonders if he should be worried that he's sincere.

He walks two paces behind her shoulder, knowing it makes her happy. The proud smile she gives him is only proof as she says, "I'm… I want to apologize. I never thanked you for killing the peasant. You… you truly regained your honor then."

There's a short pause, but they're still walking.

"The – oh… yes. I couldn't let her ruin your coronation, sister."

"You're the best, Zuzu," she sighs, beckoning to her side. "Come here."

They walk side by side, together again in her twisted world.

.

.

"_You should give up."_

"_I thought you of all people would understand."_

"_She's hurting you. When something hurts you, you have to let it go."_

"_So if I don't care, it won't hurt?"_

"_Exactly."_

"… _I'm not you."_

_._

_._

She's not as stable today, the servants warn. He walks in anyway and she invites him to another walk around their family's island retreat, one of many. The mismatched sound of her footsteps almost makes him look down, but he ignores the fact that she's only wearing one shoe as they walk the halls.

"Mother's coming to visit today," she says suddenly, and he staggers before regaining his composure. She doesn't notice, but continues, "She treats me like I'm twelve, always giving me advice for my skin – but you already know about _that_, don't you?"

There's a triumphant smirk on her face as she delivers this crippling blow to his self-esteem. He blinks with surprise, quickly realizes what she means, and arranges his face into his standard expression of tortured angst. It's not quite right – it hasn't been since he started laughing more – but her smile widens in satisfaction anyway.

"Poor Zuzu," she giggles, hand briefly brushing his scar, and continues walking. "I forget sometimes how much Mother hates you."

This time his expression is real. After a half-dozen heartbeats, he wipes it away and walks quickly to catch up to his sister, who has a strange look on her face – as if contented, but run through with tiny stress fractures. They spread with every breath.

As he draws level with her, she turns and whispers in his ear, "She told me she thinks you're a monster, you know."

The flash of pity in his eyes grates on her contentment. Pressing harder, feeling a familiar urge to hurt and maim, she hisses, "And don't think for a minute Father loves you."

"Azula…" he whispers in a soft, miserable voice.

She continues, feeling the cracks widen, "Father doesn't love anyone. He only wants to use you." For some reason the words hurt her, but the torment on Zuzu's face is worth it. He doesn't run, though. He drifts closer to her as they walk through the halls, a hand lifting—

"_Assassin!"_ she screams, composure leaving her, an undignified punch in her brother's face and a quick back flip away as he stumbles. Her breath comes in ragged pants as she shouts, "You always lie, always, because you think Father will protect you, but I know better! Mother _loves_ me – Uncle too – we know you're just a monster—"

"Please…"

In the mirror behind him, she sees her reflection, disheveled hair tangling around her face, and lets out a cracked howl of rage.

"_You stole my crown!"_

She lets out a stream of fire, blue as lightning, but he blocks it with a wave and does the unexpected, knowing it will catch her off guard.

He kneels at her feet, a gleaming golden flame presented in supplication. In surprise, she cuts off the next lethal attack and snarls, "What is this?"

"Your Majesty, you forgot this in your room," he says in a hoarse voice. "I'm sorry I didn't give it to you earlier. I didn't want to embarrass you."

_Lies,_ she thinks, deeply pleased by the way he crouches at her feet, subservient, willing to face her justice. As she admires his obeisance, she notices her right shoe missing. She doesn't remember that. She wonders if he's telling the truth this time, or if he's stolen that too.

"Very well," she says finally, picking up her crown. "I'm not a monster like you, Zuzu. I don't try to kill family." With little success, she attempts to put the flame in her hair.

Without a word he stands and walks behind her, taking her hands in his and lowering them to her sides. For some reason, she doesn't kill him; for some reason, she wants to believe in him. Gently, he fastens her hair with fabric from his and places the imperial flame on her head.

"Long live Fire Lord Azula," he whispers.

In the mirror, Ursa smiles.

.

.

"_Let her keep it. I can have a dozen more just like it if I ask."_

"_Your Majesty, it isn't proper!"_

"_I _said_ let her keep it."_

"_Humoring her delusions might slow her recovery."_

"… _Fine."_

_._

_._

The servants tell him she's seven today, but he doesn't understand until his sister leaps out of her treasured armchair and hugs him around the waist, nearly knocking him to the floor.

"I missed you," he says to the child in the woman's eyes.

They've miscalculated her age, of course; she hasn't been this loving since… he can't remember; it's been so long.

"Tell me the story about Uncle Iroh killing the dragon!" she cries, dragging him to sit by the fire, and he smiles faintly. She hasn't liked that story since Iroh returned from Ba Sing Se.

The Fire Lord tries to remember how it went. He begins, "Once upon a time, the Dragon of the West—"

"He wasn't a dragon yet, silly!" she cries with glee, and he remembers with a pang the way they used to chorus the line together.

"—Uncle Iroh wanted to become a great firebender, and the best way to do that is to slay a dragon," he continues, seeing her nod with all seriousness. "He traveled the land, but by then, no one had seen a dragon in years. Everyone he asked said they'd seen neither scale nor wing of the beasts, but Uncle Iroh didn't give up."

"You forgot Father," she says matter-of-factly, and with only the barest hesitation, Zuko adds him into the story.

"Before Iroh left—"

"No, you have to start from the beginning," she says, crossing her arms. With her older, more angled features, the pout comes out as more of a snarl, but he isn't intimidated.

"Uncle Iroh wanted to become a great firebender, and the best way to do that is to slay a dragon. He traveled the land, but by then, no one had seen a dragon in years. Prince Ozai told him there was probably only one or two left, but Uncle Iroh wasn't worried. Everyone he asked said they'd seen neither scale nor wing of the beasts, but Uncle Iroh didn't give up," he rattles off quickly, hoping Azula won't mind. She listens peacefully, watching her brother with slightly glazed eyes.

"He finally saw giant claw-prints near the mountains, so he hiked all the way up and started looking for caves. One day, he heard someone yell, 'This is my mountain! Go away!'"

Azula giggles at the thought of some mountain barbarian trying to order around the crown prince of the Fire Nation. "Then what happened?" she asks eagerly, though she knows the story by heart.

He continues with a tight throat, "Iroh said, 'Don't get in my way!' and defeated him with one hand tied behind his back. In the peasant's hut, he found a map leading him straight to the dragon. He put on his armor and set off to fight…"

She's so excited about the rest of the story that she finishes it herself in a rush of words.

"The dragon came out of its cave, blowing fire, but Uncle Iroh was smarter than it. He was hiding above it, so when its neck came out of the cave, he jumped on it and blasted its head off!" There's something deeply disturbing in the way she bounces on her knees as she says, "Then Agni smiled upon Uncle Iroh and said, 'My son, you are worthy,' and gave him the true power of fire. That was how Uncle Iroh slew the last dragon in the world and became the Dragon of the West!"

With the last sentence, Azula throws up her arms and topples over with a laugh.

Zuko feels cold. _I can't listen to this,_ he thinks. _Don't try it,_ screams every instinct.

"Or so they say," he adds, so quietly he's almost surprised when she turns on him with confusion. The servants won't like this. He doesn't care. "Don't you want to know what _really_ happened that day?"

She looks at him with hunger in her harsh golden eyes. "Tell me," she demands, and suddenly he thinks he sees the real Azula breaking through the childish façade.

_What will she do when she knows?_

He thinks of the dragons and their fire, the way they danced together. He remembers the multicolored fire swirling around him, like life incarnate.

He imagines Azula killing them with her childish, joyful laugh.

_Lie. Now._

"I was kidding," he stalls, and she leans in, the burning in her eyes edging on madness.

"You weren't. Tell me."

_Think of something, anything. _"I… I heard that the _real_ story ended like this: The dragon came out of its cave, blowing fire, but Uncle Iroh was smarter than it. He was hiding above it, so when its neck came out of the cave, he jumped on it and yelled, 'You're mine!' But suddenly, it vanished in a shower of gold fire and Uncle Iroh fell to the ground, confused. Where its head had been, a woman wearing dragon-scale armor had appeared. She was the most beautiful woman Uncle Iroh had ever seen, and he fell in love with her on the spot."

The utter confusion in Azula's features is only matched by Zuko's panic.

_Keep talking._

He swallows to clear his throat. "The dragon-woman said, 'You have defeated me. Let me live and I will teach you the most powerful techniques in the world.' So Iroh took her back to the Fire Nation, telling everyone about the way he'd killed the dragon and learned the true power of fire. But secretly, the dragon was really hiding in the palace, pretending to be a noble and teaching Iroh everything she knew. After many years, they were married."

Her eyes have regained their childish wonder, though it looks strange on her narrow features. Perhaps it's her insanity; perhaps it's her youth, but her usual skepticism doesn't surface. Slowly, she says, "You mean… our aunt… and then Lu Ten…?"

"Well, no one knows for sure," he says quickly, looking into her piercing yellow eyes. "Do you… do you know the moral of the story?"

"You can learn more by keeping an enemy alive… and by hiding it, you can keep all that power to yourself," she says thoughtfully. After a moment, she smirks. "It died when Lu Ten was born, so Iroh managed to kill it anyway. The moral is—"

He wishes he could understand his sister, so twisted even as a child. Gently, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind one ear, cutting her off mid-sentence.

"No," he says. "Love conquers all."

.

.

"_You said I'm both good and evil. That it's in my blood. She has a chance."_

"_She already made her choice."_

"_You didn't give up on me. She can't hurt anyone now."_

"_She can hurt _you_."_

"_I don't care."_

"_I can see you are determined. The mighty cypress—"_

"_Save it, Uncle."_

_._

_._

Today she meets him on the shore, scattering servants behind her as she marches imperiously towards him. He doesn't even have the time to hide the golden flame in his hair before she's there, waving a handful of leaves in his face.

"Finally! Do you know how long it took to get these tickets?"

He doesn't object when she grabs his arm and drags him back up the ramp to his ship, only to be stopped by his armored marines. Both siblings gesture at the same time, though Zuko's is an actual order and Azula's is a vague fluttering of hands. They step aside uneasily, wondering if the Fire Lord knows what he's doing.

A healer runs towards him, grabs his sleeve and whispers, "She's not stable – don't let her try to leave. And don't play along."

His soldiers step forward, but he doesn't even notice the severe breach in etiquette. His sister is pulling him forward, saying, "Don't listen to those imbecile border guards. They wouldn't accept the royal seal, can you believe that? I almost killed them, but Father said he'd deal with them." From her flailing, he can see her indicating a leaf tucked into her clothes; if he squints, it looks a bit like their seal.

He nods sagely, wondering what she wants. "We'll have them thrown in the Boiling Rock," he says.

She looks at him strangely. "Father just said he'd deal with it," she says, pointing to an empty space over her shoulder.

His blood runs cold. Ozai stands behind Azula, spearing him with a judgmental gaze. All of a sudden, the imperial flame feels as though it's burning through his scalp.

He blinks and his father is gone.

Her voice is irritated as she adds, "And what are you doing wearing his crown?"

Behind his back, he orders his soldiers below deck with a gesture. He waits for them to leave before sliding the gold flame out of his hair and tucking it in his clothes, but Azula snarls, "Give it to him."

Warily, he presents the crown to empty air with a bow. "Forgive me… Father."

Ozai says nothing.

After several silent seconds, he glances at Azula and straightens, tucking the flame into his sleeve inconspicuously. She doesn't protest, but follows behind their father, dragging Zuko with her.

"You're in big trouble," she says. "We were waiting ages for you."

He almost speaks, but she winces and says insincerely, "Sorry, Father."

After waiting to see if Ozai says anything else, he asks, "Where are we going?"

"Penguin-sledding," Azula says lightly, and he isn't sure whether this is part of her delusion, or if she's just being sarcastic. He decides to say nothing. She scolds, "Really, Zuzu, are you really that _stupid?_ Yesterday you were so excited about going to see Mother."

He lets the words sink in, frozen stock-still on the deck. _Mom._

He doesn't know what warped universe his sister is living in, nor does he know what he's doing until she snaps, "Let go of me!"

"Is she a traitor?"

She tears her arm from his grip. "Have you lost your mind? You don't remember Father banishing her? Of course she's a traitor."

She is before his banishment but after _hers_, they had never visited Mother in his remembrance, but perhaps Azula… He doesn't want to even consider it, but he wants it more than anything in the world right now.

Some fragmented memories rise to the surface, some idea of Ursa's location she would never give freely in normal circumstances—

"Where is she?" he asks, heart racing. "Where is my mother?"

"An island somewhere, I don't know what it's called," she says dismissively. "Something with a 'B'… who really cares? We're going there, aren't we?"

He wants to shake her, to scream, but he says only, "Which direction?"

"Why, Zuzu, I didn't know you missed your mommy so much," she mocks. "West, of course – don't you remember Dad talking about the symbolism of the setting sun?"

He ignores her tone and asks, "The island – will you recognize it if you see it?"

She snorts. "We've only been there a million times. Of course I will, dumdum."

Zuko doesn't hesitate. He turns abruptly, crying the name of his ship's captain, ordering a course due west. The ramp pulls up; men scatter to follow erratic orders; a thin young woman stands on deck.

A malicious smirk spreads across her face.

.

.

"_Get down from there! You'll hurt yourself!"_

_"I'm touched. But y__ou forget: I always lie."_

"_You—"_

"_Want to know something about metal ships, Zuzu? They conduct electricity _beautifully_."_

_._

_._

Cold fire blazes around her, seeking to ground. In a matter of moments, the entire ship is hissing with smoke and death rattles.

She smiles and hops off the wooden post. The crown tingles with residual electricity as she picks it up. After struggling with her hair, she finally forces it to accept the slim gold flame.

"Long live Fire Lord Azula," she says, pressing the crown into her hair, the precious words tumbling from her lips like blood. They taste sweeter than she's ever imagined.

At her feet, he sucks in a laborious breath. She leans down to whisper, "No peasant to save you now."

"A…zu…"

She leaves him there to die.

Ursa is waiting for her on the shore, a torn look on her face. Love, horror, anger, loss, hatred – the swirl of pain in her gold eyes is simply delicious.

"Azula…" Ursa manages, her face pale. "You—"

—_monster._

"Love conquers nothing," she says bitterly, and summons the lightning.

.

.

"_I won't say I told you so."_

"_She didn't hurt anyone but herself."_

"_She was trying to, and you know it. If she was still capable—"_

"_Don't argue! Just… take her somewhere safe."_

"_Of course."_

"_Do you think she'll recover?"_

"_Are you insane?"_

"… _It runs in the family."_

_._

_._


End file.
